BORED!
by MadderThanAHattress
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Lexi MacKenna, London's favourite detectives are back again, only this time...they're lacking a case. A one-shot for my series The Resident Sociopaths of 221B!
**I am alive! I'm going through a bit of shit with a professor right now accusing me of plagiarism. I can't talk about it much because it's an on going trial and case at the school. I hope to get back to writing all of my stories in May. I've currently switched my major to Creative Writing so you will see a lot more work from me in the future. I do plan on coming back soon with the Empty Herse and with Halfway to Hegg. Don't worry!- Mels xoxo**

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Late morning sunlight filtered into the living room of 221B, dust moats floating through the scattered beams of light in lazy, drifting patterns. The light fell everywhere in the room except for on the couch where the two consulting detectives who resided at Baker Street were currently lounging upon. I groaned loudly, breaking the silence in the flat. I was so bored I was trying to narrate what was going on which was actually nothing. Bugger all was happening. Sherlock shifted his head in my lap and I opened my eyes as I tilted my head forward to look down at him. He twisted his head so that he would be looking up at me when he peeled one eye open and we sighed in unison as the silence and utter normalcy continued. Three days…three days and we still didn't have a case. None, not one. Seriously?! No one murdered anyone in the span of three days?! That had to be a record. The sound of footsteps on the stairs perked Sherlock and me up as it meant that John was now awake. He walked into the living room, fully dressed in his jeans and oatmeal, cable knit jumper, and paused in the doorway as he took in the way we were sitting, still dressed in our pajamas and making no attempts to act like productive individuals of society today. I turned my head slowly as I regarded John, flicking my eyes over him and making silent deductions which even when slowed down only took several seconds. Sherlock and I sighed again before I closed my eyes and went back to the numbing feeling of not being able to think a single thought. My mind was stagnant and it was starting to rot.

"Good morning," John said as he nodded and then walked into the kitchen, pulling a mug out of the cupboard as he started to make tea for himself. I could tell from the subtle clink of the glass that he had chosen his favourite blue mug that had a slight chip in the rim. It was typical of him, boring. Sherlock sprang up quickly, standing up and walking up and over the coffee table as he crossed over to the window to look out of it.

"Is it a good morning John? What makes it good? I find it particularly hateful," Sherlock spat through clenched teeth as I turned and fell down onto the couch face first now that I lacked Sherlock's body to prop me upright. I groaned and scooched myself forward slightly, curling myself into a ball before I turned and rolled slightly onto my side, staring at the living room through my hair. John had walked back into the living room to see what the both of us were doing and Sherlock turned away from the window to look back at me. I huffed as I rolled onto my back, suddenly getting caught up in the arms of my jumper. I made a sound of annoyance as I tried to free my hands before I just gave up and just let them be stuck in the confines of wool.

"Is this what time is normally like? Slow and painful? Moving in the right order?" I asked the boys as the kettle flicked off and John turned around to finish his making his tea. As soon as he was out of sight I picked up my arms and flailed them around as I tried to free my hands again. I heard an exasperated sigh before Sherlock strode over to me and in one deft movement, sat me upright and lifted the woolen sweater, stolen from John, up and over my head, leaving me in my tank top and lighter cotton sweater. I pouted slightly and Sherlock leaned down, kissing me lightly before he straightened up and threw my sweater into John's chair and then crossed back over to the window. I smiled brightly as I watched his retreating form, knowing that the very display of affection he had just shown me was mine and mine alone to enjoy. John happened to walk into the living room a second later and walked over to his chair. He went to sit down but found that he couldn't due to the sweater. He looked over at me, but I was now gazing up at the ceiling, counting the patterns in it, and this I didn't see the annoyed look that he shot at me. He moved the sweater, which he realized was his, before sitting down and picking up the morning paper which Sherlock and I had already riffled through in the pursuit of a case, even a little one. At this point we would even accept a robbery.

"So, no cases then?" John asked us and Sherlock and I both turned our heads very slowly towards John and raised our eyebrows in unison. "You know, it's a bit creepy when you two do that," John told us and I snorted at him as Sherlock sighed.

"Currently none of the criminals are being interesting enough. They're either all in prison, on death row, or are being too boring for us to even bother dealing with," Sherlock said as he walked over to his chair and plopped down into it. He curled up into a ball in his chair and we shared a look across the living room before sighing in unison once more and closing our eyes.

"Well, um, sorry to hear that. Look…I got a thing…work …thing…I should be getting to," John said and Sherlock and I opened our eyes and looked at each other for a long moment before flicking our eyes up to John in unison. Our army doctor was so obviously lying to us, but neither of us were going to point that fact out. "So I'll just go to that work…thing…now," John told us as he got up out of his chair quickly, leaving his untouched mug of tea on the table beside his chair as he walked over to the door and started pulling his coat on. That was the second tell. John never left the house usually without having at least one cup of tea. Usually he need to have at least two before we could persuade him to consider joining us for a case. "Might be in late. Don't know how long this…thing…might take," John told us, pausing a bit at the door before he nodded firmly and walked out. I looked over at Sherlock and raised my eyebrow slightly as he looked back at me.

"Lexi," He said, his deep baritone cutting through the flat as John's retreating footsteps sounded in the room. I hummed lazily and he closed his eyes as he turned in the chair so he was lying with his feet over the back of the chair and his head was sinking towards the floor. "Bored," Sherlock whined in a pitiful voice and I sighed deeply.

"Bored," I agreed before I rolled over to the edge of the couch. Sherlock watched my progress as I put one of my arms and legs onto the floor before just letting myself roll off of the couch. I landed with a slight thud onto the floor and I grunted as Sherlock furrowed his brows.

"Are you incapable of intelligent processes today?" Sherlock asked me in a worried tone and I rolled over and looked at him, tilting my head to the side thoughtfully as I hummed.

"No, just…too lazy. I'm bored," I complained and Sherlock sighed again.

"Bored," He agreed and I closed my eyes as I wriggled until I found a more comfortable position on the floor.

"Bored," I said slightly louder than he had.

"Bored," He intoned a second after the flat had gone quiet again and louder than I had before.

"Bored," I called back as soon as silence had fallen again and I opened one eye lazily and flicked my gaze over to Sherlock. He had his eyes closed and his head was sunken all the way to the floor now but he had a slight smirk on his face.

"Bored," He called back to me and I giggled slightly.

"Bored," I sang as I sat up and he opened his eyes and looked at me, bracing himself against the floor before he hoisted himself up so he was sitting in the chair properly.

"Bored," He told me and I leaned my elbows on the coffee table and smirked at him.

"Bored!" I called brightly, raising my voice as we heard a door open down stairs.

"Bored!" Sherlock called back, more loudly than I had as he got to his feet and strode over to me, reaching for my hands and helping me to my feet. We looked at each other, grinning madly as he held me by the waist, staring down into my eyes, before we shouted in unison "BORED!" I dissolved into giggles and Sherlock chuckled with me before he leaned down and kissed me.


End file.
